Folk ask if I'm alive,
 Most think I'm not;
Yet gaily I contrive
 To till my plot.
The world its way can go,
 I little heed,
So long as I can grow
 The grub I need.

For though long overdue,
 The years to me,
Have taught a lesson true,
 --Humility.
Such better men than I
 I've seen pass on;
Their pay-off when they die;
 --Oblivion.

And so I mock at fame,
 With books unread;
No monument I claim
 When I am dead;
Contented as I see
 My cottage thatch
That my last goal should be
 --A cabbage patch.